


Unlike

by epkitty



Series: Likeness [1]
Category: Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: M/M, POV First Person, Stream of Consciousness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-03-07
Updated: 2011-03-07
Packaged: 2017-10-16 04:07:04
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 905
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/168241
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/epkitty/pseuds/epkitty
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Elrohir finds himself in a sad situation.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Unlike

I am not she.

She was fair as I am not. She was fair as summer suns or dew-dropped mornings, not like me. Not dark, dark as raven’s wings, dark as mid-winter eve.

Yet it is she he sees, when he sees me.

__________

I am not she.

She was wise as I am not. She was wise as wintered crones or any firstborn who has suffered, not like me. Not foolish, foolish as a man-child, foolish as any young pup.

Yet it is she he touches, when he touches me.

__________

I am not she.

She was old as I am not. She was old as northern woods or snow-capped peaks, not like me. Not young, young as newly risen bread, young as memories of yesterday.

Yet it is she he loves, when he loves me.

__________

I am not she. But she is gone, and I am here.

__________

Who can say when it began? Oh, not the first time: I recall that well enough, but before that… When did it start? How?

Perhaps it was the lingering touches, more than was appropriate. Or perhaps it was the stolen glances that spoke of desire. No – not desire. It was not desire, but need that drove him to me. Perhaps ‘when’ does not matter, nor even ‘how.’

But I should still like to know why.

__________

It was unnatural from the start. And far too tempting, even through the fear; far too desirable, even through the pain; far too loving, even through the hate.

It was a lover’s touch that should not have been. And my greatest shame is that I returned it, this unlooked for blundering, hidden caress of intimacy in a dark corner after too much wine. I returned it. I chose this road, however I might regret it now; I chose this road, however much I wish I had not.

__________

I returned it, but I did not initiate it.

And when the dark corner led to a dark bedroom, I turned away; I shuddered at the touch, the unwanted contact that drew forth pleasure in gentle tenderness.

Yet, I succumbed.

We fell into a tangle of sheets, pale elven skin glowing under moonlight, dark elven hair slithering nefarious whispers over the pillows. Heat growing as hands met and stroked and demanded. Flickering lashes against a soft cheek as I turned away from the unwanted kiss.

No kisses for us.

No kisses in the flush of arousal, no kisses in the midst of passion, no kisses in the unflattering satiation afterwards. Only the sundering of a bond I’d known all my life, now lost forever to his lustful need.

________

That morning, I looked into my mirror.

I found there a distraught figure pained with the ache of loss.

My mirror showed resentment. My mirror showed doubt and fear. My mirror also showed concern and asked me what had happened. And that was when I put on my mask.

I always wear my mask now.

Even in front of my mirror.

_________

And when he came to me again, I did not turn away.

How could I? He awoke within me an unknown passion, and we could lose ourselves together, no matter how awful I felt in the morning, appalled at his actions. Appalled at my own. Appalled at this sin we willingly engaged in.

_________

I could see myself growing more distant. I could see it in my mirror. But I had made a choice, and the consequences were mine alone to suffer.

Despite my mask, my mirror saw the symptom but not the cause, and he worried. There was nothing I could do, not for him and not for me.

So I ceased living and merely… endured.

_________

My lover and I keep our secret, guard it well, but we cannot hide from one another. So while the darkness is filled with heated embraces and whispered vows, our daylight hours reveal to one another only an elf to loathe, and who loathes in return. Every night our love grows deeper, and every day our hatred tears us further apart.

Until that hatred pervaded our bed.

__________

Thrusting together in a rhythm no less passionate for its familiarity, we clutched desperately at the other, seeking some rock to stabilize us in our uncertainty. But how could we possibly hope to be strong enough for each other when we were not strong enough for ourselves alone?

I am not she.

She was strong as I am not. She was strong as the deepest tree roots or a mother bear, not like me. Not weak, weak as fragile reeds in a harsh wind, weak as falling porcelain.

Yet it is she he fucks, when he fucks me.

I do not see how this can be, for I am not my mother.

And I am still weak, and it was this weakness that betrayed me in a desperate moan of, “Father!”

It was this that broke the spell, a magic made only of ignorance and blind passion.

__________

He moved within me even as he struck me across the face, cursing me for my sinful lust. But if we do not share that lust, that sin, then call me a dwarf.

He battered into me until he was spent, and sent me from the room.

I left.

But I will be back.

For though I am unlike her, I am all he has.


End file.
